"She's not the one. She can't be."
Lucien's voice sliced through the air of the war room like a blade. His fists were clenched, knuckles pale as he stood at the head of the table, his jaw locked in fury.
"She hasn't even shifted. She stumbles through the halls like a lost pup, and they expect me to bow to her?"
Three advisors—men who had served his father—exchanged uneasy glances. But none dared challenge the rising Alpha.
"She silenced the Moon Wards," one elder murmured.
Lucien turned on him. "So? So did Ava from the Northlands, and where is she now? Gone. Vanished. Like the others I sent back to their holes."
The elder swallowed hard. "The others did not bear the mark."
Lucien's eyes narrowed. "Marks can be forged. Dreams can be lies. That girl is not Luna. She's an orphan. A mistake."
He moved to the window, watching the training field below. His eyes fell on Caelan, standing in the grass with Lyra, guiding her form as she practiced stances. The way Caelan's hand brushed her shoulder made Lucien's fury deepen.
"She's bewitching him," he spat. "He's wasting his time."
"You fear her," another elder said, carefully. "But fear can cloud judgment. If she truly is Moon-Blessed—"
"She's not," Lucien snapped. "She's just another weak girl shoved into a prophecy she doesn't understand. I've trained for this my whole life. And I won't let her ruin everything."
His voice dropped into a venomous whisper. "We'll sabotage the trial. Quietly. Just like before. She won't even make it through Phase One."
Lyra stumbled back as her foot slipped, nearly falling. Caelan caught her wrist.
"Careful," he said, steadying her.
"I'm trying," she muttered. "But these stances feel unnatural. Like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not."
"You're not pretending," Caelan replied. "You're becoming."
She gave him a tired look. "You sound like a book of wolf proverbs."
He grinned. "I've been called worse."
He stepped behind her, gently adjusting her arms. "Balance. Precision. Listen to the wind. Feel it. Don't force power—let it rise."
Lyra exhaled, focusing again. The garden around them buzzed faintly with the sounds of sparring warriors and birdsong. But her thoughts weren't on the trees. They were on the pit forming in her stomach.
"Do you think I'll fail?" she asked softly.
Caelan moved to face her. "No. I think you've already survived worse than what's coming. But the Trials are brutal. Three phases. Mind. Body. Spirit. Each meant to test who you are, not just what you can do."
She bit her lip. "And what if I don't know who I am?"
He looked at her with quiet certainty. "Then we find her."
Just then, cruel laughter broke the calm. From the eastern archway, a tall, poised woman strode forward with two other she-wolves flanking her. She wore a fitted silver tunic that shimmered in the sun and eyes like sharpened glass.
"Training already, little orphan?" she sneered. "Isn't it early to play pretend?"
Lyra straightened, heart tightening. "Can I help you?"
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she slowly circled Lyra, inspecting her as one might inspect a damaged object.
"I'm Alina," she said finally, voice sweet as poison. "Daughter of House Velthorn. Heir to the North Wind Pact."
She smirked. "And future Luna."
Lyra blinked. "What?"
"I'm going to marry Lucien," Alina said. "Everyone knows it. His mother adores me. I've trained beside him since we were pups. I bleed with him. He trusts me."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You? You're just a charity case. A stray wearing a borrowed name."
The two she-wolves behind her chuckled.
Caelan stepped forward. "That's enough, Alina."
"Oh, Caelan," she cooed. "Still playing knight to every damsel with moon dreams? Or is this one special because she looks at you like a kicked pup?"
Caelan's tone dropped, ice in his voice. "You forget yourself."
She scoffed and turned back to Lyra. "Watch your step, orphan. This place chews up girls like you and spits out bones."
With a final smirk, she and her companions sauntered off, leaving the garden thick with tension.
Lyra lowered her gaze. "I don't belong here."
Caelan tilted her chin gently. "You belong more than any of them."
"She's right about one thing," Lyra whispered. "Lucien hates me. He'll never let me pass."
"Then we'll give him no choice," Caelan said. "We train harder. Smarter. You'll walk into that trial unshakable."
She swallowed. "And if I don't make it?"
"You will."
That night, Lyra dreamed.
She was running through a silver forest, wind in her hair, moonlight guiding her steps. A howl echoed in the distance, not of threat—but invitation. She followed it, deeper into the trees, until she came upon a pool glowing with starlight.
In the reflection, she didn't see herself.
She saw a wolf. White as frost. Eyes like her own.
When she awoke, her heart thundered, but her spirit felt strangely… still.
Three days later, the courtyard was alive with energy. Elders in dark robes gathered beneath the high dais. Thirteen of them, each representing a House, a Region, or a Legacy. Their eyes scanned the field below where trainees warmed up.
Lyra stood off to the side, her pulse drumming in her ears.
"Focus on me," Caelan said, stepping into her line of sight. "Ignore them."
"I don't think I can."
"You can," he said. "You've come this far."
She looked around and spotted Lucien atop the balcony, flanked by his mother and several high-ranking wolves. His eyes were cold and fixed on her.
"He's planning something," she said.
"I know," Caelan replied. "But so am I."
"What?"
"I'm not letting you do this alone."
Her eyes widened. "You can't—"
"I'm not entering the trials," he cut in. "But I will be beside you. Always. In training, in strength, in spirit."
She tried to speak but found her throat tight with emotion.
He leaned in, voice low. "You were born for this. No matter what they say. No matter what Lucien does. You're stronger than they know."
She nodded, clinging to his words like a lifeline.
The horns sounded.
It was time.